The Prince's Diaries
by MayCeaseToBe
Summary: Merlin had gone through his entire life thinking that he was invisible, but then his grandfather showed up and told him he was a prince. That would've been enough, really, but getting 'Prince Lessons' from Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Wales, was a bit too much for Merlin to handle.


Merlin was at work when he got the news. He had just finished coaching Mr. Barclay up the rock wall and was stuffing a hefty tip into the 'Love Jar' when his mother glided in through the door. She pushed her sunglasses up over her short, dark, choppy hair and smiled sunnily, apparently unaware of the people turning their heads to stare at her neon animal print sweat pants and pink shirt and luminescent green sneakers. Merlin just smiled back and hugged her, long since immune to his mother's taste for neon.

To his right, Ketlie, his manager, pulled out some gear for his mother without a word. Much as she loved him, Hunith Emrys only ever came to see her son at work when she wanted to pimp out his benefits. Or to give him bad news, which he suspected was the case when she hugged him too tightly for too long.

"You alright?" He asked.

She pulled away and brushed his short, black bangs with her fingers, brows furrowed in concern. "The school called. They told me you got sick at your debate today."

Merlin shrugged. "Public speaking doesn't agree with me."

And that was true enough. Merlin couldn't so much as answer roll call without breaking out in a sweat, much less argue a point while standing in front of his entire class. He at least managed to make it to a bathroom, this time, as opposed to the backpack of a girl in the front row. That girl still left threatening stick figure drawings on his locker once a week. Merlin was beginning to think it was her perverse way of acting out a crush, but he couldn't be sure. Girls were strange.

Ketlie tossed two harnesses, some climbing shoes, and chalk toward Merlin and told him to take a break. Merlin handed a harness and pair of shoes to his mom and guided her to a free space on the wall. She fiddled with the harness nervously before they even got there. Merlin frowned at her as he asked the spotters to hook them up.

"Seriously, are you alright? Did the cat die or something?"

"No, Killy's fine. It's just – your grandfather called today."

Merlin's head whipped to the side to stare at his mother incredulously. His grandfather died years ago from a heart attack. Merlin's brain was already convincing itself that it was really only a matter of time, his mother was always going to crack eventually, and he would support her room in a mental institution for the rest of her life, visiting her twice a week and making sure she took her crazy pills.

But then she said, "The live one. Gaius. From Albion."

"Oh." Merlin gave a short sigh of relief and started climbing. "What did he want?"

His mom trailed just behind him to his right on the wall. "Well, he's in town."

"What?"

"And he wants to meet you."

Merlin paused and looked down at his mother in surprise. "Seriously? Why now?"

"He just lost his only son, Merlin. You're the only family he has left," she said. She used her chiding 'mother voice' that made guilt churn in his stomach like a black hole of happiness.

Merlin's father had passed away two months prior in an accident, and though Merlin never met him, there was always an extravagant present on his doorstep every year on his birthday. Normally it was something small, something to be treasured. Merlin had all his presents lined up on two shelves in his bedroom that as a boy, and sometimes still, he would look up at and wonder exactly who his father was and why he left. And now he might finally find the answers by meeting with his grandfather, a man whom Merlin had never seen nor received any acknowledgment from in his entire life.

"I'll think about it," he said, reaching up for another foothold.

Next to him now, his mother smiled. "That's all I ask."

* * *

"She really wants you to meet with that asshole?"

"He's not an asshole, Will."

Merlin shoved two textbooks in his locker and yanked another one out. Will, his best friend against his better judgment, leaned casually on the locker next to his, tossing a rubberband ball in the air with an angry frown on his face. A few girls stared at Will as they walked by, muttering to each other in amusement as they rudely pointed at his hair. Will, like Merlin's mom, had a thing for bright colors, which was only intensified by their school's strict policy on black and white uniforms. Today his hair was blue.

"He didn't even send you a _birthday card_ for eighteen years," Will argued. "That's an asshole grandfather if I've ever heard of one."

Merlin shook his head and slammed his locker door. "Can we not talk about this? It's already done. I'm seeing him after school."

Will shrugged. "Fine. Any other tidbits I should know about? Got a grandmother stuffed away somewhere, too?"

Merlin paused and scrunched his face as he pushed up his black-rimmed glasses. "Someone sat on me again today."

Will pressed his lips together to stop from smiling. The effort didn't make Merlin feel any better. "I don't understand how that happens. You're taller than me. Shouldn't that help?"

"Still too skinny," Merlin said with a pout. He slung his patched-up old backpack over his shoulder and started walking to class. "Maybe I should just find an occupation as a chair? At least then I'll get to skip college."

Will clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, you got early acceptance to Brown. Don't give up that brain just because your body's a complete disappointment."

"I _think_ that was a compliment. Somehow."

Merlin sometimes wondered why he kept Will as a friend. Will was loud, brash, frank, passionate, and generally angry at everything. He was the guy who kept conspiracy theories in his history class binder and thought all authority figures were out to get him. Merlin liked Will's rebellious nature, but he didn't want to be a rebel himself. Merlin was quiet, introverted, plain, and unnoticeable. He was the quiet kid in class whose name no one ever remembered. Will was red, blue, green, and orange. Merlin was white, black, and gray. They were totally different from each other, but then, Merlin would always remember, not nearly as different from each other as they were from everyone else. Merlin was the only one who tolerated Will's obsessive passion, and likewise, Will was the only person who noticed that Merlin was there.

That summed up his entire life, really.

Invisibility.

And Merlin expected much the same as he later walked from school to the address his mother gave him for his grandfather's meeting. He expected to meet the man, possibly get some answers about his father, and then never see his grandfather again, not because he didn't want to but because his grandfather would do like anyone else and after meeting Merlin, forget that he existed at all. And then Merlin would just go home, do homework, go to Brown, and grow up as that invisible person who did a handful of important things but never got the recognition.

Those were the exact thoughts in his head right up until he reached the address and realized he was meeting his grandfather in a brick-fenced, mansion of a building that took up almost an entire block. At the entrance, there was a wrought iron gate and a small buzzer intercom. Merlin awkwardly glanced up at the little security camera that had definitely moved to follow him as he walked up to the gate and pressed the buzzer.

A gruff voice came over the intercom. " _Public tours are on Saturday, kid._ "

"Oh-um." Merlin hesitated a bit. He didn't expect to have to talk to anyone. He curled his fingers nervously before reaching out to hold down the button. "I'm here to see my grandfather?"

" _Name?_ "

He panicked for a second – his name or his grandfather's name? "Er – Gaius Dragonet?"

There was a short pause and then a loud buzzing sound. " _Come in._ "

The gate opened on its own, allowing Merlin entrance to the long, winding sidewalk leading up to the ornate front door. In a short lapse of judgment, Merlin tried skip the winding part of the walk and cut through the trimmed grass yard, but he aborted that idea when a speaker system yelled at him in twenty different languages to _Get Off the Grass!_ He stumbled skittishly back onto the sidewalk and tried hard not to look embarrassed as he reached the entrance. A butler held open the door for him (a real, traditional butler who looked like he stepped out of a Scooby Doo episode with professional dress and white gloves and everything), and Merlin thanked him quietly before he was suddenly manhandled from behind.

"Wha-Hey!" Merlin tried to turn around as his backpack was unzipped, but a ridiculously strong hand on his shoulder kept him in place.

"Security check," said a gruff voice as two hands patted down Merlin's sides. "Any weapons on you?"

"Erm, no." Merlin lifted his hands instinctively. "Do I even _look_ threatening?"

The man turned him around and gave him a once-over. Merlin wasn't really surprised to find the man to be twice his height and dressed in a crisp suit and sunglasses. He was beginning to wonder if his grandfather was pulling a prank on him or if he had just stepped into a mystery novel, and if it was a mystery novel, he really hoped he wasn't the one murdered. He was the victim sort of person, after all. The security man's lips twitched in humor, and he let Merlin go.

"Looks can be deceiving," he said, but not in a way that conveyed he believed so about Merlin. "Take a seat over there. Someone will be with you."

Two loveseats and two armchairs were stationed against the center wall of the entrance hall, complete with a coffee table, lavish red rug, two small trees, and a statue. Merlin thought it was a bit like waiting in a very expensive doctor's office, a thought which did nothing for his nerves. He put his backpack on the floor and sat on one of the couches, tapping his feet and patting his thighs anxiously. It was a couple minutes before the security men in the corner stood abruptly, and an old man with long white hair and an expensive brown suit descended from the marble staircase across the room. Merlin, taking the not-so-subtle chin nods and furtive glances from the security guys as a hint, stood as well.

The old man smiled uncomfortably as he approached, and Merlin realized with a slight shock that this was his grandfather. Gaius reached forward and shook one of Merlin's hands, clasping his arm gently with the other. "Merlin," he said, "this meeting has been put off for far too long."

Merlin, honestly, didn't know what to say. "Er- Hello." He could feel an embarrassed blush on his cheeks as Gaius released him and gestured for him to take a seat. His skin crawled with the awkwardness of the situation. He wanted to leave.

"We'll be sitting here for a moment while the tea gets ready," Gaius explained. He took an armchair across from Merlin and sat in a way that didn't look entirely comfortable. There was a short silence as Gaius looked at Merlin and Merlin looked at the coffee table. Then, with a slight clearing of his throat, Gaius gestured to the butler who was standing off to the side. The man held a small silver box in his hands, and he stepped forward to hand it to Merlin stiffly.

Merlin took the box, feeling the cold, engraved metal brush on his skin, and looked at Gaius curiously before he opened it. Inside there was a pin made of silver, formed into three connecting spirals. The shape seemed familiar to Merlin, but he couldn't place why.

"It's the seal of Albion," Gaius said. And then the seal made sense. Albion was the country that Gaius was from, that his father was from. Of course Merlin had seen it before. "That particular piece has been in the family for quite some time. I want you to have it."

Merlin brushed a finger over the pin carefully and closed the box. He looked up at Gaius with a smile. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it, I promise."

He then proceeded to put it in the front pocket of his backpack (the safest pocket, honestly) and shook the bag until the box was secure. When he looked back up, Gaius was staring at him with an impressively raised eyebrow of disapproval. Merlin tried to smile reassuringly, but he was pretty sure that didn't work. Thankfully, a woman with long, brown hair and a polish gray suit came in and interrupted them.

She opened her mouth and paused for a moment, then she glanced at Merlin and started again. "Your maj- Um, the tea is ready, sir."

"Very good." Gaius nodded and stood, and he waited for Merlin to do the same before he gestured to the woman. "Merlin, this is Mithian, my assistant."

Merlin nodded at her and mumbled a quiet, "Hello," before she led them both out to the courtyard to have their tea. They were seated at a small, shaded table and given tea that Merlin had never tasted before. He added sugar to be on the safe side, though he was fairly certain he managed to offend nearly everyone in the general vicinity (and for a two-person tea party, there were a curious amount of people just standing around) by banging his spoon against the cup as he stirred. Gaius watched him with the eyebrow expression again, but he didn't comment on Merlin's behavior.

Instead, Gaius said, "Have you ever heard of Balinor Druidis Cave' Dragonet?"

Merlin paused, teacup halfway to his mouth. "Um. No. Is he important?"

Gaius nodded slowly, taking a sip of his own tea. "He was the crown prince of Albion. He passed away just recently."

"Oh." Merlin frowned, confused about the information getting thrown at him. "I'm sorry."

Gaius didn't seem to hear him. "Balinor Druidis Cave' Dragonet was also...your father."

For a second, Merlin stopped breathing. "Wait. What?" He set down his teacup before he could break it and glanced around in a panic, taking in the security the butlers and the assistant and thinking with a thrill of terror how that all actually made sense now and -

"No." Merlin placed his palms flat on the table and shook his head vehemently. Gaius jerked in surprise.

" _No?_ "

"No. That would mean that I'm -" His throat closed up. He couldn't be right. It had to be a joke.

"A prince," Gaius finished for him. "Yes. And I am the reigning king."

"That is so _far_ from okay." Merlin pushed back from the table, hands shaking as he waved them through the air. "Okay is literally on another planet. I have been alive nearly _eighteen years_. Why did nobody think to tell me this?"

Gaius seemed to share his frustration on that, at least, frowning as he said, "Your father gave explicit orders for your identity to be kept secret. He wanted you to grow up as your mother did – normal and unfussed by the monarchy lifestyle which is, I admit, chaotic at best."

"So, what, now that I'm old enough you've come to take me away? Make me a real boy?" Merlin could feel his neck and cheeks heating up as the panic mixed in with outrage.

Gaius didn't seem phased. "You weren't to be told until your next birthday, but your father's passing has made the country anxious. Should I come to an untimely end, we need an heir ready to ascend the throne. You, Merlin, are the next in line."

" _Shit,_ " Merlin breathed (Gaius did look offended at that, finally). "No. No, I'm sorry, but I have enough trouble making it to school in the morning without tripping over something. There's no way I can rule a country. No."

And with that, Merlin grabbed his backpack and ran. Gaius called after him, but no one followed or stopped him leaving. He took the long way home, but he was still furious when he opened the front door to the firehouse-turned-condo he shared with his mother.

Hunith was in her paint-stained overalls, drinking tea at the kitchen table, when he entered. She smiled when she saw him. "Hey, how did it—oh, honey."

Merlin stopped, midway between the door and the kitchen, and stared at the guilty look on his mother's face. "You _knew?_ "

Hunith's shoulders slouched. She set down her tea cup on the table. "Of course I did. Your father and I dated for quite a while in college, before you came along. And you were never—I mean obviously you weren't planned—but you were never a burden or shameful to us. We just wanted you to grow up without any pressure on your shoulders. We wanted to make sure that you know you have a choice in this."

"Do I?" Merlin flapped his arms in outrage. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or scream. "Because Gaius said that I'm the last in line. That doesn't sound like a choice."

Merlin rubbed his hands agitatedly through his hair. "This isn't real, and if it is real, it isn't fair."

Hunith sighed. She stood up from the table and walked over to him with open arms. Angry as he was at her, it still felt good to be hugged. "You're right, it isn't fair for Gaius—for any of us—to ask anything of you. But darling, I still think you should _try_. You were born for this, and Gaius has agreed to give you time to decide."

"I don't need time," Merlin muttered into her shoulder. "I don't want it."

"You might. You might go your whole life regretting saying no." Hunith pet his hair, then took a step back. She cradled his face in her hands and said sternly, "You'll go to the embassy house after school three days a week and before work on the weekends. Your grandfather has a ball coming up in a few months, and if you still don't want any part of it, you can renounce your title then, and I'll still be right here. Alright?"

"Okay"

And that was how Merlin sort-of-kind-of-not-really became a prince.

* * *

The Albion Consulate building was no less intimidating the second time as it was for the first. The only difference was that Merlin remembered to not step on the grass, and the guard at the door thankfully skipped the frisking. Mithian met Merlin at the door in a pristine white suit-dress and cradling a tablet in one arm. She smiled kindly at him, as if Merlin hadn't rudely shouted and ran the last time they met.

"Hello, your royal highness." Mithian ducked her head respectfully. Merlin raised his eyebrows at the deference. "His majesty is waiting for you. I will lead you to him, when you're ready."

Merlin blinked hard a couple times. When the world didn't change and he didn't wake up in his bed from this surreal experience, he said, "Um, hi. I'm ready now, thanks."

Mithian's polite smile stayed in place, but Merlin didn't miss the new twitch of amusement at the edges. She lightly dipped her head and said, "Follow me."

Mithian led him through a dining room and a ball room before she came to a white set of double doors with two suited guards standing outside of it. They nodded at her and opened the doors just enough for she and Merlin to pass. Merlin glanced uneasily at the guards and kept his arms close to his sides as his passed them, as if that would help anything.

The sitting room on the other side was decorated with white and mint green and the occasional light pink accent. Merlin was already fearing that there would be tea and he would end up spilling it on something. Gaius was standing in the center of the room, so Merlin's eyes went to him first. Gaius' long hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he was wearing a nice blue suit that made his eyes somehow look even more disapproving than before. Next to him stood a sweet-looking woman with light brown skin, curly brown hair pulled into a bun, and melty brown eyes. She smiled the instant she saw Merlin come into the room. The man on her other side, however, narrowed his eyes in scrutiny even as Merlin's own widened in recognition.

The prince of Wales looked every bit as handsome in person as he did in the tabloids. His blue eyes were somehow bright and deep at the same time, and his short, messily-styled blonde hair glowed even under the dim sunlight coming through the white curtains. He was wearing just a red oxford shirt and black slacks, but he still looked more polished than Merlin would probably ever be able to manage in his lifetime.

Gaius nodded to himself as Merlin stopped awkwardly before them. "Good afternoon, Merlin. This is Prince Arthur Pendragon, and his lovely assistant, Gwen."

Merlin bowed his head to Gaius then to Arthur. "Your majesty, your royal highness." He held out his hand to shake for Gwen. "Gwen."

Gwen smiled brightly as she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, your highness."

"You know how to properly address royals, at least. That's something," Arthur said critically, in lieu of a greeting.

Merlin felt his cheeks start to burn with embarrassment. He shuffled nervously and looked to Gaius. "Mom quizzed me last night after I told her about yesterday. I'm sorry for my behavior. I was rude to react as I did."

Gaius lifted his chin in acknowledgment. "That is quite alright. It was more than enough news to swallow in one day."

Mithian cleared her throat gently and lightly tapped her stylus against her tablet screen. Gaius nodded and continued, "Unfortunately I will not be overseeing your lessons today—nor many others—due to my diplomatic duties, but a good friend has loaned me a more than suitable tutor for the time being."

Gaius gestured to Arthur, who was still looking at Merlin as if he was a puzzle piece that looked like it should fit but somehow didn't.

A spike of terror shot through Merlin's chest. There was no way the Prince of Wales could be his tutor. Merlin couldn't do simple tasks in front of regular people on any given day. Taking lessons from the Prince of fucking Wales was just asking for something terrible to happen. What if Merlin got too nervous and _puked on him?_

"You've got to be fucking with me."

"One," Arthur muttered to Gwen. "Language."

Gwen immediately starting tapping on her tablet.

" _He's_ my tutor?" Merlin pointed incredulously at Arthur, as if his grandfather was insane (because he was).

"Two: gratitude."

Gaius sighed deeply. Mithian's stylus started tapping again. "He's a prince, Merlin, and has been raised as one since birth. I daresay he's qualified to teach you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner to attend."

"Fine," Merlin muttered mutinously as Gaius hurried out of the room. He felt like a child being left with a babysitter. A royal babysitter.

"Turn."

"What?"

Arthur looked at Merlin as if he was slow and twirled his finger in a circle. " _Turn_ or I'll add hearing to the list."

Merlin bit his tongue to keep from saying something terrible (because his fear response was, unfortunately, to say the most sarcastic thing that came to mind) and quickly turned around on the spot.

Arthur actually tsked him. "No, turn slowly, so I can see you."

Merlin rigidly obeyed, turning himself in little steps like a doll on a broken music box. Meanwhile, Arthur listed off everything that he'd ever been insecure about.

"First off, hair. Give him some vitamins to help him grow it out."

"I like my hair short," Merlin said quietly. "It's too curly long."

"You have a bowl cut. It's like a crime to society all on it's own. Not to mention if you grow it out, it might actually cover your elephant ears. The curlier the better."

Arthur snapped his fingers and pointed at Merlin's face. "Next: eyebrows. They'll attack someone if we don't intervene."

"Now you're just being dramatic."

"Your fashion sense is dramatic, as in awful. Do you actually have duct tape on your shoes?"

Merlin glanced down to his old leather shoes which were, in fact, wrapped with black sharpie-colored duct tape around the toes and heels. He shrugged. "They got holes in them."

"You're getting new ones. And do not, ever, bite your nails again."

Merlin brought his hands up to his face and looked over his nails. They were a little mangy but he didn't think they were that bad. He looked back to Arthur with a wince. "Is there anything else?"

Arthur crossed his arms. "Do you have contacts?"

"Yes."

"When you leave, we're confiscating your glasses."

* * *

"I would say that I feel sorry for you, but I don't," Will said the next morning. He and Merlin were jogging around the field behind the school for PE, dressed in their drab gray and green gym uniforms, and they were moving at almost a glacial pace compared to the students who actually gave a damn. Merlin wanted to sprint just to get some nerves out of his system, but he contained himself for Will's sake.

"You're a terrible best friend."

"No. I'm the best best friend. I've been trying to get you to wear contacts for years, but apparently only a rich, asshole grandfather could convince you that I'm right."

Merlin didn't say anything to that. He hated lying to Will, but he couldn't exactly go around saying that his grandfather was a king of a small country and oh-by-the-way Merlin was the heir. Best case scenario, Will would think he was crazy. So Merlin told him only half the truth. His grandfather was really rich, and he was bonding with Merlin by having a tutor teach him how to be a preppy posh person just like him. Will was somewhere between baffled and amused that Merlin was going along with it. In the end, he put it down to Merlin suffering for the sake of his family.

"The shoes, though," Will continued. "Losing those was fucked up. You had a fashion statement, man. Recyclable footwear."

Merlin laughed and lifted his gym shirt to wipe his face. "I don't think he saw it that way."

"Of course not. The upperclass conspiracy is that once something breaks, it's useless, and the lower classes idolize them so the cycle-"

Someone rammed into Merlin's shoulder hard from behind. He stumbled over his feet then hit the asphalt on his knees and hands. He winced and looked up in time to see a bulky teen with a round face and malicious grin running down the track in front of him.

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Will shouted, throwing up two middle fingers.

"Watch it, Evans!" The coach shouted across the field.

"I'm alright," Merlin said, peeling his knees up from the ground. There was gravel stuck in his skin and small scrapes that were already starting to bleed. "Sort of."

"Bet that got his rocks off," Will muttered. He grabbed Merlin from behind by the arms and hoisted him to his feet. Merlin swayed as the aching pain in his knees flared.

"I don't think Val ever gets off. That's probably his problem."

Val had been beating on Merlin since they were kids, for no particular reason other than he thought Merlin was scrawny and annoying. But the older they got, the more that Val seemed to be curious of how much he could get away with. The answer was: a lot.

"Fuck him," Will said, patting Merlin on the back before starting to walk.

"No, thank you. I have much better taste."

"Oh. Is that why you have a stylist now?"

"Shut up, Will."

* * *

Merlin was pretty sure that he hated Arthur by the third 'tutoring' session at the end of the week. Arthur had decided that Merlin needed to learn proper dinner etiquette and that he could only learn it by eating dinner in bondage. He'd literally strapped Merlin to a chair with Gwen's scarf and then told him to eat a salad. That he couldn't reach. Because he was strapped to a fucking chair.

"You're enjoying this too much," Merlin said, as he reached one arm out to grab the salt. The was barely a centimeter too far away.

Arthur smugly reclined in his own chair across the table. Reclined. None of the straight-backed hedonism applied. And he crossed his arms because he was just so proud of himself, and his arms strained the fabric of his bright blue oxford shirt, which was tight enough just around his chest, and the color of which brought out his eyes.

Merlin tried to tell himself that he hated that, too.

"This? Yes," Arthur said. "Your wardrobe choice? No."

It was a Sunday, so it was the first day that Arthur had seen Merlin in something other than his school uniform. Merlin hadn't thought much about it when he left his house, but Arthur had almost balked at the sight of Merlin's black Queen t-shirt, destroyed jeans, and converse.

"You don't like Queen?" Merlin asked distractedly. He could pick up the salad fork, but Arthur had put the actual bowl a good foot away from the end of the table. Dick.

Arthur's pompous expression flattened. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

"So you do like Queen." Merlin's fork grazed the edge of a salad leaf. He was starting to sweat a little. "It's alright. You can admit it."

"So what if I do?"

"Aha! Queen fan." Merlin gave up for a moment and leaned back against his chair. He pointed his fork at Arthur. "This is probably going to take a while, but I have a walkman with the Night at the Opera cassette in my backpack if you want to listen to it."

"People still listen to cassettes?"

Merlin shrugged (as much as he could, anyway). "Poor people do. They're cheap."

Arthur glanced around the room for a moment, but seeing as how Gwen got fed up with their bickering and ditched them a while back, no one was around except for the guards stationed outside the dining room door. Merlin watched curiously as Arthur got up from the table and walked over to Merlin's backpack a few seats down. He looked like an excited child when he pulled out the walkman.

"I haven't seen one of these in _ages_ ," he said wondrously.

Merlin had the sensation that he was dreaming again, as the Prince of Wales giddily put one of Merlin's cheap earphones in his ear and started listening to Bohemian Rhapsody circa 1975.

Merlin leaned forward as much as he could and said softly, "You can sing along if you want to. I won't judge."

"Shut up, Merlin. You're using the wrong fork."

"Damnit."

Merlin switched out his fork for the small one closest to his plate. Arthur leaned across the table and pushed the salad within reach, all while nodding his head along to the cassette tape. Merlin almost forgot why he wanted the salad. He smiled.

So, maybe, he didn't hate Arthur after all.

Maybe he thought Arthur was...cute.

* * *

"I still think that's illegal," Will said, adjusting the straps on his backpack irritably. "What do you think?"

They were walking to school on a hazy, cool Wednesday morning during Merlin's second week of lessons. He'd gotten along marginally better with Arthur during their session the day before, going over a list of dignitaries and world leaders that Merlin would need to know, but the friendliness had determinedly stayed at marginal. The thing was, though, that Merlin's head was so filled with new things to learn, on top of what he had for school, that his concentration outside of the lessons was swiftly going to hell.

"What? Sorry." Merlin's body jerked to a stop at the same time his brain flitted away from trying to remember who was the president of South Africa. "I missed that."

Will clenched his jaw and glared. "Seriously? You haven't been listening?"

Merlin guiltily bit his lip. The one thing Will asked of him was to listen. Not agree (hardly ever agree), but just listen, because no one else ever did. He was always hurt if Merlin wasn't paying attention during one of his rants, but before the whole Prince fiasco, Merlin hadn't had anything to pull hi attention away, anyways.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said meekly. "My grandfather has me memorizing world leaders, for a...politics lesson, and you know I'm bad with faces."

Will glanced over him, then nodded and shrugged it off. "It's alright. You wanna talk about world leaders? Let's talk about that Australian Prime Minister. What a fucking douche."

Will moved passed it easily enough then, but by the third time Merlin's mind drifted away, sometime around homeroom, Will just went silent instead.

(At least, he did until Val pushed Merlin down a short flight of stairs before lunch. Then Will had plenty to say. But that was neither here nor there.)

* * *

"You thought I was kidding about those eyebrows, didn't you."

Merlin was sitting in a plush white salon chair that had been brought into one of the back rooms of the consulate building (because apparently royals didn't travel anywhere). He felt awkward lying there in his school uniform, ace bandage wrapped around his left wrist from his fall on the stairs (which was, as far as anyone but Will knew, his own fault), and receiving a full spa treatment while three people stared at him. Arthur was standing across the room with a smug grin on his face while Merlin got his eyebrows waxed, and Gwen was sitting in a plush chair by the french doors, alternating between staring at Merlin and tapping on her tablet. Some guy named Mordred (who was, apparently, Merlin's second cousin twice removed but looked more like his shorter twin) waged a war on Merlin's face that Merlin himself did not appreciate.

For the record, Merlin didn't think Arthur was kidding about the eyebrows.

"Am I even allowed to disagree with you?" Merlin asked. He winced as Mordred plucked another few hairs that didn't disappear with the wax strips.

"No." Arthur said at the same time Gwen answered, "Yes."

Arthur glared at her. Gwen smiled peaceably.

"Technically," she said, "you can disagree with him as much as you like. You are a sovereign prince. But for the sake of not accidentally starting a war-which you don't have to worry about with Arthur, but generally-you should always look for the diplomatic way to disagree."

"She means you need to get used to backhanded compliments," Mordred muttered. He plucked a few more hairs and held Merlin's head still as he squirmed. "Royals are full of them."

"I can do that," Merlin said. "Your grooming talents are exceptional, by the way."

"Thank you."

"Like getting hugged by a porcupine."

Gwen hid a small laugh behind her hand.

Arthur shook his head. "We'll work on your subtlety later."

Gwen smirked a Arthur knowingly. "Oh, like you were subtle when you told that duchess she danced like a blind giraffe?"

"She stepped on my foot!"

"And you're the one giving me lessons," Merlin said with a sigh. "This will turn out well."

"Much more subtle," Mordred said.

Arthur tilted his head haughtily. "See? My lessons are working already."

Merlin hummed. "I'm pretty sure that was Gwen, not you."

"This is so much fun," Gwen said cheerfully. She tapped something into her tablet, then added, "Mani-pedi is next, Mordred. We need to be done here by five."

"Got it."

By the end of Merlin's makeover, his eyebrows were plucked, hands and feet manicured, his haircut was altered to be less like a bowl, and his chest was waxed (which he was pretty sure Arthur did just for kicks).

And then after all of that, he went shopping with Gwen.

* * *

"I can't do this with Arthur," Gwen said wistfully as they walked through the busy mall hallways. Merlin was surprised that she'd chosen the mall instead of some stuffy place that only a person wearing Gucci could get into, but he wasn't complaining. It was nice to feel normal again for a while. He had an inkling that Gwen felt the same way. "I couldn't do this with Morgana, either, and she'd be the one to really enjoy it."

"Princess Morgana?" Merlin hadn't seen a picture of her in years. As the second, and female, child of the king, she was much less publicized than Arthur. No one cared about royalty if they couldn't inherit the throne.

"Yes," Gwen said. "I used to be her maid. But then I graduated from Uni and Arthur needed an assistant...I miss her, though."

"She must be nice, if you like her so much." Merlin couldn't imagine Gwen being anything but sweet. But then, he'd only ever seen her at work.

"She is. She cares a lot, and she hates there's only so much she can do about some things. Here we are."

Gwen steered them through a small crowd of teenagers and into the Macy's store. The noise quieted almost immediately as they entered the nearly-empty store. Merlin felt as if he was literally stepping into the upperclass minority. Macy's was shining white and pristine and smelled like things Merlin couldn't afford. He shuffled himself until he was behind Gwen instead of beside her. In her long-sleeved, chiffon lavender blouse and modest yellow pencil skirt, she looked like she belonged there more than he did.

"The men's section...ah, yes. And look! This is nice." She picked up a purple oxford shirt made with a soft fabric that felt like suede. She held it up to Merlin's chest and smiled. "You look lovely in purple."

Merlin glanced down at himself in bemusement. Purple was not a color he would have chosen. "Really?"

"Definitely. I bet you'd look nice in blue, too. Let me see..." Gwen dove into the racks of shirts with concentration on her face. Merlin could hear her mutter occasionally. "I don't know about putting you in stripes. Definitely not polka dots. Yes blue. No orange."

Merlin glanced around helplessly. His form of shopping was trying to find the cheapest band t-shirts and thrift shop jeans. The price tags on some of the clothes around him made him feel slightly ill. He lightly touched the sleeve of one of the shirts Gwen had picked. $250.

"Are you sure we can't go somewhere less expensive?" Merlin asked. He knew his grandfather could probably afford it, but having someone else spend so much on him made a wave of guilt churn in his stomach. "Like that Abercrombie place or something?"

"Why? Do you not like these things?" Gwen popped her head out from the side of a rack and frowned with worry. Merlin immediately felt even worse.

"I do. Just. They're expensive." Merlin held up a $500 price tag on a pair of jeans for emphasis.

Gwen smiled sweetly. "Merlin, when-if you accept your right to inherit the crown, you'll be given much more expensive clothing, often for free. Arthur was wearing Michael Kors this week and he didn't even know it."

"That's insane."

"That's the perk of being in the spotlight. You're a walking advertisement, so designers will fall over themselves for you. Now look," Gwen held up a sunny yellow shirt with a blue tie. "Too much?"

"Mom will love it," Merlin said immediately. He ran his hand down the arm of the shirt carefully. "Do you really think I'll look good in these things?"

Gwen, to his surprise, booped him on the nose and winked. "You're cuter than you think."

* * *

"What are you _wearing?_ " Will said. He had come running when Merlin told him about the limo that would be carting them around indefinitely (Gaius was afraid that Merlin would get hit by a car or something stupid), but when he left his house and met Merlin on the sidewalk, his excitement immediately dampened.

Merlin wasn't wearing a tux or anything. He had put on one of the light blue oxford shirts that Gwen had picked out for him, then put a dark blue sweater over that. He was still wearing jeans, but they didn't have any distressing or holes. And his shoes were nice black loafers instead of duct-taped sneakers. He thought he looked like an adult. A well-put-together adult. He felt good, actually. Until Will had to go and ruin everything.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in place and said, "Just...clothes."

"Clothes like the dickheads at school wear," Will said. His nose scrunched in distaste. "How much did that cost? Do you know how much you could've given to charity for that shit? There are kids starving in Africa, and you had to go blow money on a cashmere fucking sweater."

Merlin clenched his jaw and glanced nervously to the driver-slash-bodyguard in the limo. He didn't look any happier with Will than Merlin felt. "I know, but my grandfather-"

"Yeah. Your grandfather wants you to be a podperson. I get it. But I don't know why you're _going along with it_! You used to hate all this stuff, and now you're turning into just another prick! Do you even give a shit anymore?"

"Will!" Merlin felt himself turning red, but as a child of a pacifist, he wasn't quite sure what to do with his anger. He kind of wanted to hit Will, but instead he clenched his fists and took a breath. He said, "You know how my name is hyphenated?"

"What? Yeah. Emrys-Dragonet." Will flapped his arms and gave Merlin a look that said, So what?

"My grandfather is Gaius Dragonet. Google him." Merlin crossed his arms and tried not to look anxious as Will pulled out his phone with irritable disbelief on his face. He probably thought he was Googling a scum of wallstreet or a Fortune 500 darling.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah. Can we go now?"

Will didn't look away from his phone screen. "Are you pranking me?"

"I wish," Merlin said. He grabbed Will by the shoulders and steered him toward the limo. "But unfortunately it's true."

"But you're my best friend," Will said weakly.

"Yup. The bestest friend." Merlin opened the limo door and shoved Will inside before crawling in himself. He'd never been in a limo before, but he'd somehow though there would be more room. He had only just enough room to stretch out his legs. The black leather seats were nice, though. And not wearing a seatbelt was a plus.

The driver turned around in his seat to look at them through the square opening between the back and front seats. He was hispanic-looking, with long brown hair pulled back into a bun, bronzed skin, and melty brown eyes that could probably rival Gwen's. He asked, "Where to, gents?"

Merlin glanced at Will, who seemed to be going into shock while Googling Merlin's grandfather, then said, "There's an icecream shop a few streets down, then we're going to the park. Is that ok?"

The driver looked almost pained. "You called me here to get icecream?"

Merlin almost felt guilty. Almost. "You can have some too, if you want."

The driver sighed then shoved a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. "Ice cream shop it is. I'm Lance, by the way."

"Oh. I'm Merlin-you probably know that. And this is Will, who's a dick."

"Hey!" Will finally looked up from his phone and glared at Merlin. "Friends who keep secrets don't get to call the other friend a dick."

"If we make this a competition, I'm pretty sure you'll lose."

"Dick."

"Dick."

The square hole in the divider was slowly closed, but not before Merlin heard Lance say something like, _"Why did I have to get the teenagers?_ "

* * *

Once Merlin knew that Lance existed, it was kind of hard not to notice him. Apparently he'd been standing guard at the consulate building the whole time as part of the protection team for Gaius, but seeing as how Merlin went out of his way to not stare at the guards, it wasn't surprising that he'd never noticed Lance before. But now that was pretty much impossible. Especially once Merlin realized that Lance had the googly eyes for Gwen.

"The googly eyes?" Arthur asked when Merlin mentioned it. They had at some point, some way, come to the conclusion that Merlin needed to work out more. Merlin had a suspicion that Arthur was just getting antsy being in a strange city for so long, but either way, they were spending a session on finding Merlin's exercise forte. And while Arthur was running him to death around the grounds, Merlin noticed Lance mooning over Gwen mooning over Lance wearing nothing but a sweaty racerback shirt and shorts.

"Yeah," Merlin panted. He'd lost the energy to jog a while back and was now just limping along while Arthur jogged around him. "The 'I totally want to bang you but I'm too afraid to say anything' eyes."

Arthur chuckled and looked over to where Lance was doing completely unnecessary eight count body builders on the grass. Gwen was standing near the building's wall, fanning herself. Probably not because of the heat.

"I see what you mean."

"It's a tragedy," Merlin said. He shuffled over to the grass and collapsed onto his back. "They live in different countries, work for different royals. Almost as much of a tragedy as my muscles right now."

Arthur bent down over him-and did he always have to look so pleased with himself?-and said, "Don't worry. They'll have a happy ending. But you, on the other hand-" Arthur pointed up and down Merlin's wrecked body. "You have muscles, so you have to be good at something."

"Staring at my body, your highness?"

Arthur laughed and nudged him with his foot. "Shut up, Merlin. I'm being serious."

 _So am I,_ Merlin thought. He pushed himself up on his elbows and said, "I think I know what I want to try next."

And that was how, a half hour later, the Prince of Wales, the Prince of Albion, and Gwen ended up doing yoga in the ballroom. Lance had declined to participate, but he didn't look like he minded watching Gwen take his place.

 _"And now move slowly to downward dog. Keep breathing."_ The video said. They were watching the video on Gwen's tablet, which was propped on an expensive dining chair.

Merlin pushed up his knees to the downward dog position and hummed. "See? Isn't this relaxing?"

Next to him, Arthur was red from embarrassment. "I feel like an idiot."

"Good. Self actualization will do wonders for you."

Merlin didn't know when they got from the point of taking each other too-seriously to the point of Arthur carelessly laughing as he did a downward dog, but he liked it. A lot.

There was an incident in gym class, but Merlin made it less of an incident.

Ever since Merlin started growing out his hair and wearing contacts and wearing nicer things, Val had amped up his aggression. Merlin wasn't sure why, and considering that he was in his last year of high school, he didn't really care to find out why, either. He figured either Val would stop or school would just end. Either way, he only had a few more months.

That was why, when Val shoved a basketball into Merlin's face during PE, Merlin went along with the 'it was an accident' excuse. Only a few more months. Waiting was better than making a fuss, anyway.

When he showed up for Prince Lessons with a battered lip, he blamed it on the rock wall at work.

Everyone believed him because they didn't have a reason to not.

* * *

Dance lessons were not something that Merlin had anticipated.

"People still waltz?" He'd asked the first day, staring at the ballroom in horror as Gwen led him into the room for his first lesson.

"Of course they do," Gwen said. "It's romantic."

Merlin was pretty sure he'd managed to make it a lot less romantic by default. Dancing wasn't something that came naturally to him. The first day he'd literally stepped on Gwen's feet. The second day he'd almost maimed her while trying a turn. The third day she actually refused to dance with him altogether.

"Maybe you should just watch," she said gently. "Seeing an example might help."

Merlin bit his lip before saying, "Alright."

He thought that she would ask Arthur to partner with her, but instead she turned toward the double doors, where Lance was standing guard, and asked. "Do you know how to dance, Lancelot?"

Merlin couldn't keep his eyes from bulging and glancing to Arthur, who looked just as amused. Merlin mouthed, _Lancelot?_

Arthur snorted.

Lance stepped further into the room and smiled. "Of course. Shall we?"

Gwen smiled pleasantly and tapped her tablet to start the music. Merlin watched as Lance took her waist and began to lead her around the ballroom, never looking away from her eyes. It was at the same time impressive and hilarious and sickeningly sweet.

"Do you suddenly feel like we're intruding?" Merlin asked.

Arthur shook his head with exasperation."Every time they're in the same room together, I feel like I'm intruding. Now, you're not getting out of lessons. Come here."

"What?"

Arthur stepped closer, grinning. "You're going to lead me."

"I'm what?" Merlin couldn't have been hearing that right.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm adding Eloquence to your list. Take my waist."

Merlin hesitantly stepped closer and did as he was told. He put one hand on Arthur's waist and the other gently cupped his warm hand. Arthur's blue polo shirt was softer than he thought it would be. "This isn't going to end well."

Arthur didn't look concerned. In fact, he grinned a little. "I know how to follow, believe it or not. My sister was obsessed with role reversal for nearly an entire summer, and I was her unfortunate guinea pig."

Merlin wasn't relieved. "Okay. But that doesn't fix my awful dancing."

"No, it doesn't. Your problem isn't the steps. We've been teaching you those for nearly a week. You're problem is confidence. So here." Arthur closed his eyes. "I'm depending on you. Tell me where to go."

"Yeah, that's going to solve my confidence problem."

"Yes, Merlin. Not 'Yeah.' You're not a bimbo."

"No one says bimbo anymore. Everyone says Yeah."

"Shut up and move."

He stumbled a bit at first, but something about Arthur with his eyes closed, trusting Merlin, having _faith_ in Merlin, made him straighten up and guide Arthur with a concentration he didn't know he possessed. Arthur chided him a minute in for gripping his hand too tightly, but otherwise, he had nothing bad to say. He was pliant and warm in Merlin's arms, and Merlin began to understand why Gwen thought it was romantic. He wasn't moving very fast, but his heart was racing.

When the song ended, Arthur smiled widely. A blush tinged his cheeks.

"Much better."

Merlin, for other reasons that didn't dare say, agreed.

* * *

When Arthur discovered Merlin's stage fright, otherwise known as Merlin's sheer terror to the point of illness if he had to talk in front of more than three people, he wasn't even surprised. Instead, he just decided to integrate the problem with the literature lessons that he had planned anyway. As it turned out, the only one who really had a problem was Merlin. And it wasn't for the obvious reason.

Arthur, up until that point, had been cute and occasionally really attractive. But if someone put a book of anything in Arthur's hands and made him read it, he instantly went up ten points in the hotness scale. Arthur knew how to _read_. His voice was gentle, pronunciation crisp, and tone just as emotional as it needed to be. Merlin found himself enraptured with whatever Arthur was saying, like a child being read a story. A story about love. He dozed in his plush sitting room chair as Arthur read Neruda to him ('demonstrating good speech' he said, but it was really just to show off).

 _But_

 _if each day,_

 _each hour,_

 _you feel that you are destined for me_

 _with implacable sweetness,_

 _if each day a flower_

 _climbs up to your lips to seek me,_

 _ah my love, ah my own,_

 _in me all that fire is repeated,_

 _in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,_

 _my love feeds on your love, beloved,_

 _and as long as you live it will be in your arms_

 _without leaving mine._

"How do you do that?" Merlin asked.

Arthur carefully closed the book, leaving his thumb in as a placemarker. "What? Read?"

"Read that _well_."

Merlin couldn't imagine it. He had always stumbled over his words or spoken too quietly or used the wrong tone. Arthur read like he really believed in what the words were saying, as if he was just a voicebox for the words to speak through.

Arthur grinned boyishly, his cutely crooked teeth showing. "Are you giving me a compliment?"

"Maybe." Merlin shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "You have to be good at something, I guess."

Arthur laughed and shook his head. "Alright. Sure. But to answer the question, it helps if you're reading something that you believe in."

"You're in love?" Merlin asked, before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to know the answer.

Arthur's amusement calmed, and there was something oddly gentle in his eyes as he looked at Merlin. "No. Not yet. But it's something that I'd really like to happen."

Merlin hummed and reclined in his chair. He didn't know what to say. He did hope that Arthur fell in love, but the selfish part of him really didn't want it at all.

"Read another one," Merlin said instead.

Arthur huffed a small laugh and opened the book again.

 _I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

 _or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

 _I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

 _in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

 _I love you as the plant that never blooms_

 _but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_

 _thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_

 _risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body._

 _I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._

 _I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_

 _so I love you because I know no other way_

 _than this: where I does not exist, nor you,_

 _so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,_

 _so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep._

* * *

Merlin was in the library when it happened.

His grades were well above average in science, so he had volunteered to help the librarians instead of attending the test review. His job was simple: wheel around the book cart and put the books where they needed to be, based on the Dewey decimal system. It was actually relaxing, and satisfying, to put things were they belonged. Merlin wished someone could do the same for him.

He was on auto-pilot for most of the class period, sorting fantasy and autobiography and non-fiction and finally poetry. He stopped when he found a book of Pablo Neruda's poems in his hand. The memory of Arthur reading was still fresh on his mind, Arthur's warm yet clear voice drifting over the lines as if he really meant them. Merlin ran a finger down the spine of the book.

"Gonna make out with that book, Emrys? " Val said from own the aisle. He was probably skipping lunch again. Merlin had a hunch that he couldn't afford it, but that could've just been his brain trying to rationalize why Val was such a dick. "That'll be the most action you ever got."

Merlin carefully put the book where it belonged. He didn't look at Val, even when he advanced toward where Merlin was standing. "Are you actually here to check out books? Because you know that means you'll have to read something. I know thinking is hard for you."

"Got sass today, huh?" Val shoved Merlin to the side.

Merlin stumbled and grimaced as his shoulder hit a bookcase. He turned to glare at Val and saw that he had one of his friends from the rugby team standing behind him, taking a video of the whole thing with his phone. Merlin wouldn't get any help from him. There was an anticipatory grin on the guy's face.

"You're saying _sass_ now?" Merlin said snidely. "Are you sure you aren't the gay one?"

There wasn't any warning before he got a punch to the gut, then a hard shove slamming him into the edge of the cart and landing him on the floor. Val gave him a swift kick to the groin, then stepped back, breathing hard.

There was a rough yank on the back of his shirt as Val tried to pick him up off the ground, but Merlin just coughed and rolled onto his knees. He felt like glass got shoved into his gut from two directions, and his groin throbbed in so much pain that he was nauseous. His hands naturally covered the area, but it didn't help.

"If you're such a big man now, you can suck it up. C'mon, stand up." Val grabbed him again and pulled him up. Merlin's legs were shaking and barely holding him steady. Val clutched a fistful of Merlin's hair and tilted his face up toward the friend holding the camera.

"Smile, fag." Val said.

Merlin closed his eyes.

* * *

When school ended, Merlin's privates were feeling better, but they still hurt and he still felt nauseous. He was pale and shaking a little and generally looked like shit. Will was pissed about it, but for all his talk, he wasn't as big as Val and couldn't do much about anything. Merlin didn't blame him.

Lance picked him up a few blocks away from the school and took him to his lessons for the day. The second he saw Merlin, he asked him if he was alright. Merlin just nodded and said, "Yeah, I think I might be sick."

He didn't know why, but it was easier to lie.

Merlin fidgeted in his chair during lessons with Arthur. He couldn't focus on proper greetings for foreign dignitaries when sitting down was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of his life. He was pale and he knew it, and he still felt one step away from puking. Only fifteen minutes into it, Arthur sighed and asked, "Are you sick or something?"

Merlin went with it. He meekly nodded and said, "Yeah, I think so."

That wasn't even a lie. Not really.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck guiltily, as if it was somehow his fault Merlin felt like death, and stood up from his seat. "Alright. Go home and drink some tea. Come back tomorrow."

Merlin stood up as well, but before he could take a full step, his foot got caught in his backpack strap on the floor. He stumbled, and Arthur reflexively put a hand on his stomach to keep him from falling.

Merlin flinched back and cut off a whimper in his throat.

Arthur raised his eyebrows and slowly pulled his hand away.

Merlin breathed a shaky sigh and nervously kicked away the backpack strap. "Sorry. I've got a bruise there."

"Really." Arthur didn't look impressed by his answer.

"Yeah. Fell into the library cart today. I blame Neruda. Someone left his book -"

"Merlin."

"-on the floor. What?"

"Lift up your shirt."

Much as Merlin dreamed of Arthur saying that sentence, he hated how it sounded. Like Arthur was suspicious. Like he _knew_. "Excuse me?"

Arthur stepped closer again. Merlin couldn't look him in the eye, so he started at Arthur's broad chest instead.

"Lift. Up. Your. Shirt."

"I want to keep my bruises to myself, thanks."

"Do it, or I'll do it for you." Arthur advanced, cornering Merlin at the edge of his chair, nearly forcing him to sit down again. Merlin felt a shock of panic and held out his hands.

"Alright! Alright. Just don't make me sit down again."

Arthur's face pinched with concern, but he nodded and moved away. Merlin slowly lifted his uniform's white oxford shirt and cotton undershirt. The bruises around his stomach weren't really much yet beyond a bit of green and yellow, but he knew there was a small scrape on his back from the book cart. Arthur looked at him with narrowed eyes, jaw clenching.

"That is not from a library cart." He pointed to the large, growing bruise on Merlin's stomach.

"No. That's from gym class. Rugby isn't my sport."

"Don't lie. Don't you dare. Who did it?"

Merlin shrugged, going for nonchalance. "No one important. It's not a regular thing, anyway."

Arthur blinked, as if realizing. "Like your wrist or your lip or that bruise on your arm?"

"All accidents."

"Bullshit."

That was the first time Merlin ever heard Arthur swear.

"And why can't you sit down?"

Merlin looked to the doors and tried to sidle away, but Arthur put a hand on his chest and pushed him back toward the chair. Merlin instantly grabbed Arthur's shirt and clung to keep himself from falling. Arthur obligingly gripped his arms to steady him. Merlin didn't let go and looked at the ground in his embarrassment.

"They kicked me in the nuts, alright? I've felt like puking all fucking day, and I _really_ want to go home." He hated how his voice shook. He hated that he wanted to cry. He hated Arthur for making him say it out loud.

Arthur's voice was soft, sad. "Alright."

Both of his hands were then on Merlin's, prying the boy's hands from his shirt and then cradling them in his own. Merlin's fingers twined together as if they're trying to savor the warmth. Little traitors. "I'm going to get Lancelot, and I'm going to tell him. You aren't going to argue, and you won't be missing our class again. Are we clear?"

Merlin nodded, still looking down. Arthur brought a hand up to Merlin's chin, guiding him upward to meet Arthur's eyes, and an unbearably warm thumb traced Merlin's jaw. Arthur had an oddly soft expression on his face, so for a blinding moment, Merlin thought that Arthur might do something incredible. But then the hand traced up and gently brushed the bangs from Merlin's forehead. And then Arthur stepped away.

And he left.

* * *

It happened on a Thursday, three days later.

As per the new usual, Lance dropped off Will and Merlin two blocks away from the school, and the boys walked the rest. Will had just died his hair royal purple, not intended to be a pun but still funny anyway, and he was going on a long rant about how his mother's comment on how girly it looked was offensive to the feminist agenda.

Merlin was half listening and half trying not to step on cracks in the sidewalk. He only looked up when Will suddenly stopped talking and punched him in the arm.

"Did someone die or something?" Will asked, pointing toward the school.

Merlin could see and hear the flock of reporters from a block away. They were like a school of fish huddled around the school steps, waiting to be fed the worm dangling right above them. They made Merlin feel extremely uneasy, but they couldn't possibly know who he was yet. No one did.

Merlin shrugged and said, "I don't know."

The noise got louder the closer they got. Some of the students were in the crowd as well, mostly ones in Merlin's grade. They were talking to the reporters with stupid grins on their faces.

Will approached one of the outlying reporters standing just beyond the steps and said, "Hey, what's going on, man?"

The scrawny reporter opened his mouth to reply at the same time someone shouted, _"That's him!"_

Merlin only had a few seconds to realize what was going on before the crowd descended upon him. He had cameras and microphones pressed against him from all around, and Will was quickly displaced from his side. Merlin smiled through his panic, trying to adopt Arthur's nonchalance and ease, but there were too many flashes and loud, jumbled words of questions that he wasn't prepared to answer. They pressed together so tightly that there wasn't anywhere for Merlin to go, and his panic got worse because what if he said something and fucked up or _puked on someone_. But then Will, like a fucking angel, bodychecked a woman half his size and roughly grabbed Merlin by the elbow.

"FUCK OFF! FUCKING ASSHOLES! THE PRINCE HAS TO GET TO SCHOOL! "

Merlin had never been so glad in his life that his best friend was rude. Will plowed through the stream of reporters without any regard to who he was elbowing or where, and when they got up the steps, the principal and two rent-a-cops were waiting to pull them inside. The principal, Dr. Mora, breathed a visible sigh of relief at the sight of Merlin and ushered him and Will quickly through the glass doors and into the front office. Dr. Mora knew the name of nearly every student in her school, and though she had always remembered Will's, she had always managed to forget Merlin's. Until now.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Emrys—I mean, your highness—I mean-"

"It's alright," Merlin said. It was weird to hear his principal say 'your highness' anyway. "Just Merlin is fine."

Dr. Mora relaxed and nodded, almost as if to herself. She flipped her long, curly black hair behind her shoulder irritably then glanced at Will. "Mr. Evans, you can go ahead to class."

Will balked. "But I'm his friend!"

"And I have a lot of things to do for your friend, so go, please. Now." She pointed at the door.

Will looked so disgruntled that Merlin thought he might actually flip her off, but he didn't. He patted Merlin on the arm and left.

"Now, go ahead and sit down." Dr. Mora gestured toward the chair on the opposite side of her desk. "We've already called your mother. She said she would call your grandfather, who I'm guessing is..the, um..."

"The king," Merlin finished for her. Dr. Mora looked like she was about to faint, and she actually leaned against her desk as he said the word. "Yes."

"Okay. Good. We'll keep you in here until we hear from him." Dr. Mora grabbed a sealed mason jar from behind her on the desk and opened the lid with slightly shaking hands. She titled the jar toward Merlin. It was filled with Oreos. "Cookie?"

Merlin took two. He was starting on the second one when Dr. Mora's secretary, a petite blonde named Sefa, popped her head in and said, "Um, Dr. Mora, the King's secretary is on the line. She says they're sending security for Merlin."

Dr. Mora roughly finished swallowing her Oreo, then said, "Good. Have the police said anything about getting the fleas off our lawn?"

"We can push them back to the sidewalk, but that's it. Sorry, Merlin."

Merlin waved his hands dismissively. "It's fine, really. I'm sorry about this. If it's – I mean, if it's alright with you, could I go to class now?"

Dr. Mora paused to consider it, but she still ended up shaking her head. "You should wait for your security. I don't think we managed to block all the press from getting in, and I don't want a lawsuit because I let you go off alone."

"Right."

Merlin had another cookie.

Lance showed up just a few minutes later. He hadn't gotten far when Gaius called him, but convincing the rent-a-cops that he wasn't a reporter took longer than expected. When he entered Dr. Mora's office, Lance asked to speak to Merlin alone. Dr. Mora left with visible relief on her face.

Lance glanced over Merlin worriedly, checking for injuries. "Are you alright?"

Merlin got up from his chair and brushed the cookie crumbs off his lap. "I'm fine."

"You want to go home?"

"No. I have a test in history."

"You're sure?"

"About the test? Not really. I spent all night reading Shakespeare for Arthur instead of studying."

Lance frowned. "Merlin."

"I'm fine, Lance. I promise. Just try not to make the girls go crazy."

"What?"

Merlin took in Lance's wavy hair and melty eyes again. Coupled with his fitted suit and job of protecting the helpless, he was a recipe for disaster around teenage girls. "You're more distracting than I am. Don't you have sunglasses to wear?"

"You want me to wear sunglasses...inside a building?"

"For both our sakes, yes."

* * *

Merlin turned out to be right.

Even with the sunglasses covering up Lance's doe-eyes, more than a handful of teenage girls giggled at him in the halls, and Merlin heard conspiracies about falling in front of Lance to see if he would catch them (he wouldn't, but only because Merlin told him not to). The fuss about Merlin was mostly just whispers of shock and more jabs that he was used to hearing. Valiant prided himself on being the first to call Merlin princess and all the jocks had a good time making jokes about a gay, nerdy prince. Lance, thankfully, didn't comment. He probably thought the accusations were just added insults from stupid kids and not anywhere near the truth.

The girls, however, were suddenly very interested in Merlin. He had them coming up to him in flocks, asking inane things like his favorite band to scarily perceptive things like, 'Have you met the Prince of Wales?' He almost answered 'yes' but checked himself. Arthur probably wouldn't have appreciated being shoved into the chaos with him.

By lunchtime, Merlin was at the point where he just wanted to hide. He made the mistake of saying so to Will, and that was how the two of them ended up hiding out on the roof where the basketball and tennis courts were located.

"You have gym on the roof?" Lance asked when they got there. He looked baffled by the metal stands on the roof edges and the courts in between.

Merlin tamped down a smile. "Yeah. The school was too lazy to put in an actual gymnasium."

"What if it rains?"

"We do stretches and have a health class."

"I worry about your education."

"We all do."

Will had immediately run off to the supply closet and retrieved a basketball for them to mess around with. Merlin was helpless with sports, but Will always went easy on him.

They took turns shooting the ball into the graying, tattered hoop for a while before Will said, "Merlin, now that people know about you, can I use my status as your best friend to get girls to sleep with me?"

"Yes."

Will dropped the ball. Literally. "Really?"

Merlin smirked. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't indirectly get you laid?"

Somewhere behind them, Lance laughed.

Maybe, Merlin thought, the whole prince deal wouldn't turn out so badly after all.

* * *

"I would have preferred it to be on our own terms," Gaius said later that day. Merlin had been summoned to the consulate building to meet with him about the press leak. There were newspapers strewn across the desk in Gaius' cluttered, library of an office, all showing pictures of a nervously smiling Merlin from different angles. Merlin tried not to look at them. They weirded him out.

Gaius adjusted his reading glasses and continued. "But on the bright side, you may now attend the state dinner I will be hosting next week. People will want to see you."

"Really?" Merlin straightened in his seat with surprise. "You think I'm ready?"

Gaius nodded absently and picked up one of the papers. "Arthur's told me about your progress. I think you're more than ready."

Merlin thought Arthur was a big fat liar, but he didn't dare say that to the king.

"Thank you."

"No need, my boy. You may go now, if there's nothing else."

Merlin bowed his head respectfully and left the office, but he didn't go home. Just thinking about going outside to deal with the reporters made him tired. He stayed in the quiet haven of the consulate building for a while longer, wandering into to the bright sitting room where he and Arthur had most of their lessons and curling up on a chair close to the windows. He could see out to the back gardens from there. He could see the tall hedges and rose bushes and the tiny pavilion where Gaius first told him what he could inherit. He didn't feel any different than the boy who freaked out and ran away, and that scared him. Shouldn't he be different, if he was a prince?

"Merlin," Arthur said, entering the room. He walked slowly, cautiously, as if Merlin was a cat that might get scared away. "Are you alright?"

"Sort of." Merlin shrugged. "It just wasn't really real until now."

"Oh yeah?" Arthur stopped next to Merlin's chair and crouched down, folding his arms over the armrest. "Then what was it?"

"Like playing house," Merlin said. "You can say you're a prince and act like a prince, but no one is going to believe you."

Arthur sighed and reached out a finger to poke Merlin in the arm. "Merlin, you're a prince. No matter what you do, you'll always be that."

"Have you eve thought that you weren't cut out for it though?" Merlin asked, not expecting an answer.

"Yes."

Merlin blinked in surprise.

Arthur smirked wryly. "Did your grandfather ever tell you why I'm the one tutoring you and not someone who's an actual etiquette teacher?"

Merlin shook his head.

"I was in the armed forces for four years," Arthur said. His voice was tinged with longing. "I would've stayed longer, but my father decided that it was time for me to settle down and go to university. I was so angry with him that I threatened to renounce, so he sent me here to cool my head."

"Really?"

Arthur nodded. "Really. I'm much more comfortable being a soldier than I am a prince."

"You're so good at it though."

Arthur laughed and ducked his head. "I've had a lifetime of practice, but that doesn't mean I'm cut out for it."

"I think you are," Merlin said. He wanted to reach out and brush aside Arthur's bangs, as he often did for Merlin, but he restrained himself.

Arthur smiled gently at him as if he caught the sentiment anyway. "I think you are as well."

"So I've heard," Merlin said, a wry curl forming on his lips. "Grandfather told me about the state dinner."

"You'll be fine," Arthur said, standing up and brushing off his knees. "But we can go over how the night will go, if you want."

"...yes, please."

* * *

Merlin never would have made it through the dinner alive without Arthur.

He entered the dinner well enough, only a little awkward introducing himself to Albion's prime minister and guests. And then Arthur was there, muttering under his breath the names of all the people he'd forgotten and gently reminding Merlin to smile, don't look bored, don't laugh at that lady's stupid hat.

He and Arthur didn't sit next to each other at dinner. The prime minister and some dignitary sat on either side of Merlin instead. Arthur was across the table from him, reminding him silently with gestures which fork to use and _I know it looks like finger food but it isn't._ Baron Agravaine Le Fey glared at Merlin from down the table the entire time, and Merlin quickly learned from the Prime Minister that the Baron was next after Merlin in line for the throne. Merlin suddenly understood why his grandfather was so anxious for Merlin to inherit.

The dinner went fairly well in the beginning, but then Merlin ate too much sorbet and spent two minutes choking on it, distracting nearly everyone at the table. He hit the prime minister's face with a stray grape (how anyone could eat grapes with forks he would never know). And he very nearly set the entire table on fire when he accidentally elbowed a drunk ambassador as he rose from his seat, causing the man to knock over a candle and set the table cloth alight which Merlin quickly doused with a bucket of ice water filled with open bottles of champagne. Arthur covered his face with both hands as if in dismay, but Merlin saw his shoulders shaking because he was laughing so hard. Gaius dismissed the dinner guests to the sitting room for coffee, and that was that.

* * *

Merlin was nearly inconsolable the next day. He knew he'd fucked things up, and some of the guests were now pissed at Gaius, and he couldn't make anything better.

The day after the dinner was mostly spent doing easy tasks like watering Gaius's plants in the conservatory. Arthur had the week off to visit home, so Merlin was actually being chaperoned by Gaius himself, which made him feel worse. He couldn't even make jokes at his own expense. It was just him and Gaius and the plants which would probably die because Merlin was such a fuck up.

As they watered the sage, Merlin sighed for probably the thousandth time, and Gaius gave Merlin a withering stare.

"Did you know," Gaius said, "that for my first state dinner, I knocked over a suit of armor? The spearhead went straight through the suckling pig, and the entire main course was ruined. My father was terribly embarrassed, and I'm fairly certain I scared all of our guests half to death."

"But you didn't set anybody on fire," Merlin muttered.

Gaius, to his surprise, smirked. "No, I did not."

Merlin smiled a little and went quiet again. He was never sure what to say to his grandfather because they hardly ever spent time together, even now that they were in the same city. He kind of wanted to go spend time with Will, but then Will would probably have found the whole thing a little too hilarious. He'd thought of Merlin's prince status as more and more of a joke, lately, even as Merlin thought of it less and less of one.

"The point is," Gaius continued suddenly. "That all of us, even the royals, make mistakes. I don't expect you to be inhuman."

"I never thought you did," Merlin said quietly, though he did think that, at the least, Gaius expected him to be more than he actually was.

Gaius raised one eyebrow, obviously not buying Merlin's reply, but he didn't call him on it.

Instead, he said, "Arthur seemed to enjoy himself, at least. He looked much happier than I have seen him in quite a while."

Merlin shook his head. "He always looks like that when he's laughing at me."

Gaius hummed noncommittally. "Did he tell you about leaving the military?"

"Yes."

"Uther had good enough reasons to request Arthur's retirement, safety concerns and all, but he could have gone about the whole thing a bit more gently." Gaius frowned as he spritzed water on the thyme. "I was the one who suggested Arthur come to tutor you. I thought it would do you both some good, seeing as how you are in nearly the same position. And it does seem that you have done Arthur a lot of good."

Merlin felt warm, suddenly, and maybe not quite so useless. He smiled a little as he moved to water the basil leaves. "If only I could fix his big arrogant head, though."

Gaius laughed and smiled wide. Merlin was almost surprised by the reaction. He'd never seen Gaius laugh before.

"Yes," Gaius said with a chuckle. "If only."

Merlin and Gaius spent most of the day together after that, drinking tea and having dinner privately at the consulate. Merlin ended the day much happier than he had started because, for the first time in his life, he really felt like he had family other than his mother, and that family had accepted him even with his faults. The feeling was foreign, but nice. Very, very nice.

* * *

A few days later, Merlin woke up to his mother entering his bedroom with small, hesitant steps. She was still in her long-sleeved, rainbow, leopard print pajamas, and she clutched a newspaper nervously in her hands. "Merlin? Wake up. Come on."

Merlin blinked blearily and slowly rose to a sitting position in bed. "What? What's wrong?"

Hunith carefully perched herself on the edge of his blue comforter and handed him the paper. "There's a video of it, too. Gaius is having his people try to get it taken down."

Merlin frowned worriedly as he took the paper from her and read the headlining title. Lost Prince Target of Gay Bullying. The picture beneath it showed Merlin being held up by his hair while his face was turned down at the floor, eyes squeezed closed. He was bent over weakly, hands lifted up to the forearm of the person assaulting him, and the hand gripping him was tight, obviously supporting his weight.

The article inside the paper had three different pictures from the video that Val took that day: the main one of Merlin standing, one of him bent over on the ground after getting kicked, and one of him lying curled up on the library floor. Val had apparently posted the video on an online forum where bullies liked to show off their handiwork. Then after Merlin's princely status was made public, someone had recognized him in the video, and it was all downhill from there. Since Val had posted the video anonymously, and since his face wasn't really in it, no paper was mentioning him, but they were telling extensively about how Merlin was widely known in his school as 'the gay boy' and they had quotes from other students about his 'situation,' none of which are very flattering to Merlin. The entire city – fuck, shit, no, the entire world probably – would now get to see Merlin at his weakest, at his most helpless. His cheeks flared up and embarrassed tears pooled in his eyes. He couldn't look at his mother, though she hadn't seemed angry when she walked in, just sad.

Hunith leaned forward an put a hand on Merlin's leg. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin's shoulders tightened defensively. "It wasn't a big deal. It was just – a bad day, that's all."

"This isn't just a bad day, Merlin. You said those kids stopped years ago."

"They did...and then they didn't."

He didn't know what else to tell her. He really just didn't want to worry her and make a fuss over something that he should have been able to handle, but telling her that would just make everything worse.

Hunith sighed and patted his leg before standing up. "Your grandfather wants to see you. Get dressed, and I'll make you some toast."

* * *

When Merlin sat down across the desk in Gaius' office, he was met by his grandfather with a bland stare. The silence was long and slightly uncomfortable, probably purposefully to make Merlin fidget.

Although, when Gaius finally spoke, it was with a gentle tone that Merlin did not expect. "You do know that marriage between two men or two women is legal in Albion – has been for some time now."

Merlin nodded.

"And though the laws currently state otherwise for a prince, they could always be changed."

Merlin looked down at the desk-littered with papers covering his story- and nodded again.

Gaius leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. "You should have told someone about this bullying situation, at the very least. Our PR department is currently having kittens trying to convince everyone that we haven't left you defenseless. We'll be putting another member of security with you at school -"

"That's not necessary."

"Merlin, if there are students harming you, you will need extra security."

Merlin sat up straighter and finally looked his grandfather in the eye. "There was just the one student, and he's stopped now that Lance is with me."

Gaius leaned forward expectantly. "And what is his name?"

"I'd rather not say." Gaius' eyebrows rose impossibly high. "He hasn't had it easy to this point, and I don't want to make it any harder."

He didn't know why he was defending Val, considering what he did. But Merlin did know that Val hadn't been let off easy in school just because he was a tormenting dick. The athletes that he hung out with always dismissed him or pushed him around. Merlin was always hearing inklings of pranks that Val was the butt of or parties to which he purposely wasn't invited. At the time of hearing those things, Merlin thought the information funny and poetically justified, but he didn't wish so much harm to Val that he would press charges.

Gaius shook his head slowly. "He will never learn better if he is never punished."

"Punishment doesn't always make people better," Merlin said. "Sometimes it's leniency and forgiveness."

Gaius softened, then, and leaned back in his chair with defeat. "We'll leave the matter alone for now. If you don't have anything to add..."

"Actually, I would like to give you an answer." Gaius looked up in surprise. Merlin cleared his throat nervously. "About my taking the throne. I'd like to renounce."

Merlin thought about it in the morning as he was getting dressed, thought about it as he spent less and less time with his mother and Will, less time being normal. Merlin would never, realistically, fit in with the posh and fabulous royals. He knew this and always had. His feeling was only emphasized by the papers on Gaius' desk, spewing his personal life and secrets to the world.

Gaius paused a moment before he nodding shortly. There was a sad tightness to his eyes as he said, "Very well. You are dismissed for today. I have some cleaning up to do, and Arthur won't be back until this evening."

"Thank you."

Merlin bowed his head respectfully and left the room. Lance, who was standing patiently at the office door the entire time, looked at Merlin with an expression resembling sadness, but he didn't say anything as he escorted Merlin home.

* * *

Merlin spent the rest of the day in loose sweatpants and a gray undershirt, eating icecream and cuddling his calico cat while watching reality TV with his mom. Sometime late in the evening, he finally retreated up to his room to read when there was a knock at the front door. He heard his mother greet someone and then there were footsteps on the stairs. Of all people, Merlin did not expect Arthur to be the one opening his bedroom door.

"Your mother is bringing us tea," Arthur said as he cautiously entered the room. He looked hilariously out of place among Merlin's tie-dye bedroom walls, even though he was dressed down in just a red polo shirt and jeans.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in imitation of Gaius, and Arthur raised his hands in defense.

"Of her own volition," Arthur assured him. "I promise."

Merlin scooted over on his bed and patted the spot next to him. "So are you here to lecture me as well?"

Arthur toed off his shoes and sat at the edge of Merlin's bed. Merlin obliged and made room for him to lie down as well, their backs resting against the headboard. "No. I'm here unofficially. Actually, technically I'm not even here. My flight was originally scheduled three hours from now."

"You left early?"

"It seemed that you would need some cheering up."

Merlin smirked. "And you're the person for that."

"Absolutely," Arthur said seriously. "Who has worse press stories than me?"

"Lindsay Lohan."

"Point. But I bet she didn't -"

And then Merlin was listening to Arthur's ridiculous tales of press woe, some of which Merlin actually recognized. "Oh, God," Arthur lamented, "If you've heard about it, I know it was bad."

Merlin laughed – the first laugh he'd had all day. It felt amazing and surprising in his chest. They calmed down a bit after Hunith popped in with the tea. Merlin took a sip and glanced over at Arthur curiously.

"Did Gaius tell you my decision?"

Arthur didn't look at him, but he nodded. "Yes."

"Do you think I'm making the right choice?"

He needed Arthur's opinion, his approval. Arthur knew more about him and his predicament than anyone else. Merlin respected him as well, and Arthur knew it.

"It's your decision," he said diplomatically. Merlin wanted to hit him. "But you realize, if you renounce, we probably won't ever see each other again."

That hit Merlin hard. If he renounced, he would have a normal life, away and separate from all the royals. He wouldn't be anywhere near Arthur's circle anymore. Arthur wouldn't have any time to spare. Merlin rested his head back and closed his eyes. "Why does this have to be so hard?"

"It's life, Merlin." Arthur said matter-of-factly, as if everyone knew how it felt to choose between a complicated life with royalty or a simple life without it. There was a breath of silence before Merlin felt a warm hand on his chin, turning his face in Arthur's direction. Merlin opened his eyes to find them face-to-face, breathing each other's air, staring in each other's eyes. Arthur gave him an almost amused look, a fond look.

"You're so young," Arthur said softly with a small, sad smile.

Arthur leaned forward and kissed him. It was warm and soft and everything Merlin wanted his first kiss to be.

And it made his decision that much harder.

* * *

"Think of it like this," Will said the next day. He was skipping school to hide out with Merlin, who was determined never to go back even though he knew that his mother would make him eventually. They were lounging in a puddle of rainbow paints, just finished with throwing darts at paint-filled balloons on canvas, and then throwing the paint balloons at each other because they were boys and what else would they do with them. Merlin was pretty sure he had paint up his nose. It smelled kind of like playdough.

Will continued, "You can either spend your life going to college and making no friends beause you're you and let's face it, then getting a job where no one will give you any credit because you're a pushover, then getting into a train of fucked up relationships for the same reason, and finally dying alone with three cats. _Or_ you can continue headlining on and become the prince of a sovereign country."

"Your faith in me if touching," Merlin said dryly. "And why do you even know about ?"

Will shrugged. "Google."

"Uh-huh." Merlin was pretty sure there was more to that story, but he didn't push it. Instead, he said, "You know that ball is still happening, right? I can bring a plus-one, if you want to come."

"You know I'll fucking be there," Will said vehemently. "Free food and me are soulmates."

Merlin chuckled lightly and slapped Will on the arm. "Ass."

"Yeah, yeah. Seriously though, Merls." Will turned his head so that he was looking Merlin in the eye. His purple hair blended in shockingly well with the paint already on the floor, and his hazel eyes were almost out of place in comparison. "You'll be my best friend no matter what, okay?"

Merlin smiled.

"Even if you're covered in paint."

Will slapped a paint balloon over Merlin's cheek before he could react, and paint splattered over his face. Merlin gasped. Will scrambled to run away. Merlin grabbed his pantleg and tackled him against the floor.

He forgot, for a while, why he was so worried in the first place.

* * *

Gaius came by the morning of the ball. It was a sunny Saturday, and Merlin's house had all the windows open to let the breeze roll in and through the rooms. Merlin himself was relaxing on the couch when Gaius walked inside, and his grandfather looked a little baffled by the paint splatters on the walls and floors. Merlin grinned.

"Hello, grandfather," Merlin said, standing up from the couch. "What brings you here?"

Gaius stepped tentatively toward Merlin, as if he was afraid that the long-dried paint would fall on him. He clutched the brown parcel in his hands tightly. "I just wanted to make sure that you are ready for the ball tonight. You've received the suit we sent you?"

"Yes." It was midnight blue and stunningly sleek. Merlin was afraid to touch it, much less wear it.

"Good. And I have something for you. Here." Gauis handed the small parcel to Merlin, who took it carefully. "It was your father's. He was always keeping journals, ever since he was a boy. This one he wrote specifically for you. It was to be given on your eighteenth birthday. I know I'm a week or so early, but I thought you might need it more now, with recent events."

Merlin carefully unwrapped the brown paper and took out the bright red journal underneath. It had a lock on the front, in the shape of the swirled Albion symbol. Merlin ran his fingers over it wondrously. He couldn't believe that his father had written to him.

"The pin I gave you when we first met will unlock it," Gaius said roughly. He was looking at the journal as well, but his expression was one of mourning.

"Thank you," Merlin said. He hugged the journal to his chest. He felt guilty, taking something that meant so much when in return he gave Gaius so little. "And I'm sorry for renouncing. I know I let you down."

"Oh, Merlin." Gaius' jaw wavered. His bright blue eyes were kinder and softer than Merlin had ever seen them. "You are, first and foremost, my grandson."

Gaius reached forward and pulled Merlin into an unexpected hug. It was stiff, as if Gaius was not used to hugging people, but Merlin enjoyed it anyway. His grandfather cared about him without the title. That was the most important thing.

Gaius stepped back pointedly and nodded, as if he had just done something on a checklist of some kind. "Right. I'll leave you to it, then. You'll just need your suit, and any notes you might need for the speech, and you should-"

"Speech?" Merlin asked, startled.

Gaius frowned. "Yes. I may not have mentioned, with the tabloid nonsense. You do have to give a small speech, just a few sentences, telling the press that you have renounced. After that, we'll have you sign a few things and you will be officially displaced from the throne inheritance."

"Oh," Merlin said faintly. No one had told him that speech-giving was a requirement. Did no one tell Gaius about his puking problem?

"Yes. Not much of a fuss, thankfully. Do you need to have Lance pick you up?"

"No," Merlin said quickly. His brain was going into overdrive. "No. Mom wants to drive me. Sentimental reasons."

A lie. She was going to the ball straight after work.

Gaius nodded in understanding. "Of course. I will see you tonight, then."

"See you," Merlin said casually. He watched Gaius turn and walk out the door before darting up the staircase. He couldn't do that speech. For the sake of everyone he couldn't do that speech. He pulled his suitcase out from under the bed and flipped open the lid. His cat watched on blandly as Merlin packed his comfortable band shirts and worn out jeans. His laptop, his speakers. His glasses and contacts things. His toiletry. His phone charger. The journal.

Merlin stopped.

He ran a finger over the journal lock again, tracing the swirls. He then walked to his bookshelf filled with birthday presents, all the pretty and useless things that his father had given him, and he took down the box holding the pin from the end. The pin fit perfectly into the lock, and when Merlin pressed down, the journal made a satisfying 'click' sound. He opened it, and he read. And read. And read.

His father had written down every terrible and beautiful thing there was to know about being a prince. He wrote about the limitations and heartache, and the achievement and good. And best of all, wrote about what he hoped for Merlin.

" _From now on, you will be traveling the road between who you think you are, and who you_ _ **can**_ _be. The key is to allow yourself to make the journey."_

It wasn't even advice, not really. But Merlin's mind still changed in that instant.

He had to get to the ball.

The problem of course was: he had no way to travel.

He had spent so long reading the journal that it was already dusk, and the sunny weather had quickly clouded and turned to rain. Merlin's mother would have already been on her way to the ball from her workshop, and Merlin couldn't call Lance without admitting that he had lied.

He decided to make a run for it instead.

Rain pelted Merlin with the force of a vindictive showerhead. He was soaked in seconds, but he ran anyway. He felt like a fucking idiot, but he ran anyway. He thought maybe if he could make it to Will's house, he could bum a ride from Will. He doubted that Will had left on time. But since Merlin was more used to rock climbing and yoga, he stopped running sooner than he liked. His lungs were burning, and he was soaked, and he was fucked. He stumbled under a shop awning and tried to rationalize that he had literally brought this on himself, so he wasn't allowed to feel sorry.

And then a limo pulled up. The back door opened. Arthur stuck his head out.

"You're shit at running away!" Arthur shouted.

"I was running _to_ the ball, actually," Merlin said, grinning wide. "Can I bum a ride?"

"You'll ruin the leather."

" _Arthur._ "

"Come on, then."

Merlin all but dove into the limo, and Arthur slammed the door shut behind him. He was still soaked, and he was growing colder by the second in the air-conditioned limo.

Arthur peered at him skeptically, but he didn't comment on Merlin's obviously bad plan gone awry. Instead he reached under the limo seat and pulled out a long, thin box. There were clothes inside. Specifically, there was a black and white suit.

"I keep this around just in case I have too much wine," Arthur said. He held the shirt up in front of Merlin and squinted. "It'll be a bit big, but at least you won't die of pneumonia. Strip."

"Seriously?" Merlin added 'strip' to the list of things he never thought the Prince of Wales would say.

"Seriously," Arthur said. He tilted his head to talk toward the front the seat, where there was Lance and someone from Arthur's own security team. "Do you all have napkins or something up there?"

Lance fumbled around in the middle console and tossed back a pack of tissues. It hit Merlin on the shoulder.

"Thank you. Divider up, please."

The center divider rolled upward as Merlin peeled off his shirt and Arthur yanked a few tissues out of the box. Merlin didn't have time to protest before Arthur started wiping him down. He stayed very, very still and tried not to blush.

"How do you get into these messes?" Arthur muttered irritably. His hand gently stroked a tissue over and down Merlin's chest.

Merlin didn't have an answer. He _really_ didn't have an answer. He couldn't say he regretted the mess he was in, when Arthur's hand traced the waistband of his jeans.

Merlin may have whimpered.

Arthur smirked, cheeks flushed, and he leaned forward to murmur hotly in Merlin's ear. "One day, when we have more time, we'll do whatever you're thinking about right now."

Merlin wasn't thinking much of anything, but Arthur didn't need to know that.

They got him dressed just before pulling into the consulate building. Merlin was late, but no one cared because he was the guest of honor.

He gave his speech in Arthur's clothes, which were still a bit too big for him to fill.

He announced himself as the Crown Prince of Albion, and when he saw the symbolism, he laughed.

Not even the press knew why.

* * *

"So, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," Arthur said casually. He'd stolen Merlin away into the back gardens, which were lit with fairy lights and fountains. Arthur had them hidden in a hedge corner, standing closely together, out of view from everyone else. It was probably the most romantic thing Merlin had ever seen, which was a pity because that made him take everything less seriously.

"We don't exactly live in the same country," Merlin said. He just couldn't be optimistic with Arthur two inches away. Of course not.

"No, but we're close." Arthur pulled him forward by his suit jacket, still too-big and still Arthur's. Their bodies pressed together warmly. "And no one will question why I suddenly spend more time at the Albion house this summer."

"Really?" Merlin nudged Arthur's nose with his own.

Arthur smiled. "Really."

* * *

Anyone could ask Merlin if he regretted inheriting the throne at any point in time, and his answer would have always been the same. No. Because he'd met Arthur, and that was worth everything.


End file.
